A Point Just Passed
by Marguerite1
Summary: She was a cold beer on a scorching summer day.


Title: A Point Just Passed  
Classification: XMM, AU, futurefic, L/R   
Rating: R for language and sexual situations between consenting adults.   
  
Disclaimer: Fox and Singer own the crew, doo dah, doo dah.   
Sue a teacher? Shame on you! Oh de doo dah day.  
  
"The Present is a Point just passed."  
--David Russell   
  
She was a cold beer on a scorching summer day.  
  
She was a fine cigar, a fast motorcycle, the cool side of the pillow.  
  
She was the sweet, sweet ache in his body.  
  
"She looks great," was all Logan said to the Professor as they watched Rogue  
through the first-floor conservatory window.  
  
"I know she'll be happy to see you." Xavier smiled mildly at him. "You must like  
going away from us just because we're always so welcoming when you come home."  
  
They had all been good to him, and he had been surprisingly pleased by their  
physical displays of affection. Ororo, standing on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.  
Jean, still tentative after her death and rebirth, greeting him with open arms.  
Even Cyclops--wary, sarcastic Cyclops--had clapped him on the back and offered  
him a drink. This was a new ritual, having a quiet drink together. He could  
definitely learn to appreciate it.  
  
Wolverine looked around at his friends as he downed the last of the whisky. He  
savored the liquid burn at the back of his throat even more than the smoky  
flavor. Sometimes, in defiance of all logic, he was convinced that having metal  
grafted to his bones made him feel cold for no reason.  
  
He had expected literal coldness when he returned because he didn't know that  
Bobby Drake had gone to Harvard Law almost a year ago. The eggheaded kid had  
claimed he wanted to go into politics and help keep them safe, but Logan was  
certain that he just wanted to pass for human, maybe even rejoin that  
stiff-necked family of his. Rogue had sulked for a while, then plowed ahead with  
her own studies, and now she was graduating, as it were. Becoming an X-Man.  
X-Girl. No, woman, Logan reminded himself.  
  
The pathetic teenager who had stowed away in his RV could not possibly have  
become the amazing young woman who was strolling through the gardens, unaware  
that she was being observed. Certainly unaware that she was the reason he'd come  
home.  
  
Marie. Ton of bricks. Direct hit to the head.  
  
She was the reason he'd come home.  
  
Somehow, Logan's homing instinct had switched focus from brotherly concern to a  
longing for a more intimate connection. How had this happened? When had she  
grown up?  
  
"She turned twenty-two last month," Jean told him as she poured three more  
fingers' worth of whiskey into his glass. "I didn't need my telepathy for that  
one."  
  
Logan drank her in as much as the alcohol. Her eyes had taken on a coppery hue,  
although with a haunted downturn around the corners. Damn, but she was still so,  
so beautiful. Logan was relieved to find the old tug of desire had tamped down  
to something different, replaced by a deep friendship not really different from  
what he felt for Ororo and the professor. Even, he hated to admit, for Cyclops.  
"You think too much," Logan mumbled.  
  
Jean laughed. She looked out the window again, drawing Logan's attention. "I  
think she's figured out that you're here."  
  
Marie had come closer to the house and was standing with her hand on the seat of  
Logan's motorcycle. Her face lit up with a killer smile, a heart-melting smile,  
then she peered into the conservatory. She raced up to the window, paying no  
attention to the flowers she was trampling. Logan mirrored the gesture on the  
glass. Touching but not touching, the story of their lives.  
  
He felt a hand squeezing his shoulder and turned to face Scott, who was actually  
smiling at him. "Go," he said, tipping his head toward the door. "She's waited  
long enough."  
  
Logan didn't need a second suggestion. With only the slightest nod to his  
grinning companions, he took off toward the main hall and found Marie running  
in, her black silk scarf waving behind her like a banner.  
  
"'Bout time," she chided as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She pressed  
her cheek to his. He jerked away, expecting a flash of pain and feeling confused  
and stupid when he realized there had been none.  
  
"Lotion," she laughed, half an octave lower than her girlish giggles had been.  
"Any kind of emollient gives me enough of a barrier to control it. Sometimes for  
ten minutes or more at a time."  
  
He had all kinds of ideas about how to spend those ten minutes.  
  
What kind of a--whoa, boy.  
  
"I'm sorry I missed your induction thing," Logan mumbled. "I got stopped twice  
by mutant patrol types." His hands still ached from the number of times he'd had  
to show his claws to get people to back the hell away from him.  
  
Marie tightened her grasp on him, shifting to hold him around the waist with her  
face pressed against the soft cotton of his t-shirt. "You're safe here," she  
said.  
  
Safe here.  
  
Finally he allowed himself to relax against her, not sure who was holding whom.  
Not caring too much, for that matter. Over Marie's shoulder he could see the  
others gathering around to watch the reunion. He was surprised at how easy it  
felt to have them watching this moment. Beaming, Jean and Xavier offered  
sub-aural blessings. Marie shifted in his embrace, glancing shyly at her  
friends, her equals, her partners.  
  
"Rogue?" Ororo asked softly, her eyebrows raised.  
  
Marie looked up at Logan for confirmation, for a sign that she wasn't dreaming.  
She must have seen the answer in his eyes. "It's what I want. My graduation  
present." She cast a quick glance at Jean, who smiled and playfully pushed her  
husband forward.  
  
Cyclops reached them in a couple of jaunty steps. He stroked Marie's hair for a  
moment, then turned his visor up toward Logan's face. "I can take you down, you  
know," he declared.  
  
"You won't have to."  
  
The silence between them was about to become uncomfortable when Xavier cleared  
his throat. "In any event, Logan, we've got a visitor in your room so you'll be  
staying in Rogue's. I'm sure she will be happy to show the way."  
  
She wriggled away from him and threw her arms around Xavier's neck. He patted  
her arm and gave her a beneficent smile. "Welcome to the X Men, Rogue."  
  
"We'll still have to talk about changing it to 'X-Persons,' you know," Marie  
shot back as she raced up to Logan and put her hand in the crook of his elbow.  
Ignoring Xavier's retort and the women's applause, Marie quickly took Logan  
upstairs and around the corner.  
  
Logan was fumbling with the doorknob while Marie applied lip balm to her pretty  
little mouth. God, was that all she'd needed, something so simple? He was about  
to find out, because she was pushing him against the wall and tilting her head  
back for a kiss.  
  
Religious experience, right here, right now. Yes, there was a God, because no  
way could two people fit together like this by some random collection of atoms.  
  
He tangled his hands in her hair, feeling the difference between the smooth  
brown strands and the rougher white ones around her face. Marie whimpered,  
pressing even closer and opening her mouth. Of course there wasn't anything on  
her tongue to act as a barrier, but he found that little touches just sent a  
rather pleasant shock down his spine.  
  
After a few breathless experiments, he clasped her gloved hands and put them  
over his heart. "Where can I touch you?" he gasped.  
  
"Bathtub."  
  
His brain was too overloaded to process it as anything but a non-sequitur.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
That smile again, all six zillion watts of it. "Bathtub. Full of bath oils and  
bubbles and stuff." She worked one hand free and snaked it lower, across his  
abdomen, down to the waistband of his jeans. "Put me in the tub, Logan, and you  
can touch me anywhere you want to."  
  
He was surprised he let her get the whole sentence out before tearing the  
bathroom door off its hinges. The problem was that he found himself staring into  
a closet, because he didn't know where the bathroom was. He'd have spent five  
minutes opening and closing doors unless Marie...yeah, she was holding the right  
door open with a smirk on her face. He knew damn well he'd be removing that  
smirk as soon as the water got warm.  
  
Pushing past her, growling low in his throat, Logan turned the faucets and  
inspected the tub. Big enough for two, easily, and all kinds of bottles were  
sitting in a nearby basket. Marie grabbed one and poured its contents under the  
running stream. "Oh, hell!" she groaned.  
  
"What?" Please, God, not some new problem they'd have to overcome. He'd be  
peeling the wood off the walls if this didn't work.  
  
Marie stuck her arm in the water and scrabbled around. "Forgot the plug," she  
announced. "Okay. Got it."  
  
Logan wanted to push her into the tub and jump on top of her. If not for the  
thought of how uncomfortable wet jeans were--and how hard to remove--he might  
have given in to the temptation. Instead he held Marie by the shoulders and  
leaned over her. Big brown eyes searched his face. "What?" she drawled.  
  
"Nothin'. Just...you know."  
  
He'd crossed a continent just to see her face without knowing why, until he saw  
her in the garden and the bolt of lightning hit him. Damned if he knew how to  
tell her, and damned if he was going to let the moment slip away. "Marie," he  
began, gesturing helplessly. If it didn't involve claws, he didn't know what to  
do.  
  
She leaned over again and dipped her hands in the water, then placed her palms  
on his face. They were warm and smooth. Little trails of bath oil tracked down  
his face. "It wasn't time for us yet, Logan," Marie whispered. "I was too young,  
and you were too wild."  
  
"Hey, I'm still wild," he breathed.  
  
"I'm counting on that, Wolverine."  
  
"Uh-uh." He started to slide the straps of her dress down and off her shoulders.  
"Not when we're doing this. We got names."  
  
"Okay," Marie said. She had stepped out of her dress and the steam in the  
bathroom was making her hair cling to her neck. Holy crap, she wasn't wearing  
anything else but little black panties.  
  
Had his jeans been this tight when he bought them?  
  
Who cared? The tub was full, Marie was all but naked, and someone had figured  
out that she could be skin-to-skin without killing--  
  
Wait a minute. He furrowed his brow and sniffed the air territorially. "How'd  
you figure out about the oil stuff?"  
  
Blushing, Marie crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Does it matter?"  
  
Truthfully, yes. He'd wanted her all to himself, untouched by any hands but his.  
Not the way it would have been with...  
  
Don't be an asshole, he told himself, so he shook his head. No.  
  
She was way too smart to buy into his act. Cocking her head to one side, she  
gave him a sad smile. "Don't bullshit me. It makes you crazy. But if I can live  
with how you lusted after Jean for years and years, then you can live with my  
having slept with Bobby."  
  
It was fair, and he loved her. "Okay." He leaned over and kissed her until they  
were out of breath. "Does having had sex with Bobby mean--"  
  
"Logan, cut it out!"  
  
"Does it mean that you're...protected?"  
  
Please, God, let it be yes, let it be yes...  
  
Marie's eyes sparkled with mischief and, Logan hoped, desire. "I've been on the  
pill for three years. Satisfied?"  
  
"Yes. I mean, no, not even close. So. Let's get in the tub," he mumbled as he  
struggled to get his clothes off.  
  
No argument from Marie. She slid easily into the tub and held her soapy arms out  
to him. He tested the water with his toe--he hated cold water of any kind,  
particularly in tubs--then sat down facing her.  
  
"Now what?" Marie asked archly. She was exploring his legs, from tibia to  
kneecap to thigh to...oh, God.  
  
It took every ounce of control he possessed to keep from howling in sheer  
pleasure as Marie's hand slid slowly up and down and up again. She paused, a  
curious smile crossing her features. "Huh, that's weird," she commented.  
  
"Okay, calling it weird? Not exactly filling me with desire." He covered her  
hand with his. "Is there a problem?"  
  
"No. Oh, no, not a problem. I was just wondering if you had to have it done more  
than once. If it kept, you know, growing back."  
  
"Jesus Christ, Marie!" he yelped. "You're worrying about..."  
  
"Not worried, honey, just curious. I'll shut up now." She closed her eyes and  
continued what she had begun. For his part, he kept his eyes open and started  
his own explorations. Every inch of her was a revelation, and he was determined  
to memorize every curve, every single place that made her squirm or moan.  
  
And there were a lot of them.  
  
Or was that him, moaning?  
  
Whichever way, he found himself sitting with his back to the wall and Marie  
straddling him. He did howl, then, and Marie let out her own little shriek, and  
since they could touch everywhere there was water she kept splashing her face   
so that he could do anything he wanted, anything to keep them connected.  
  
There was no mistaking her cries any more than he could mistake the jolts  
electrifying his body moments later. Marie let out a long, contented breath and  
slid bonelessly to his side with her arms around his waist and her head on his  
chest.  
  
So. Here he was, lying in a tub full of girly-smelling stuff and trying to put a  
name to his feelings. He could come up with "sated" and "buzzed" and even  
"smug," but it took about ten minutes for him to pick the word he really needed.  
Perhaps because he'd never felt it before, not truly, not completely.  
  
Happy.  
  
Marie stretched and opened her eyes. "Wow."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"I'm turning into a prune. And you might rust or somethin'. Let's get to bed."  
She pulled herself upright and reached for a towel while he slowly got to his  
feet. He padded around in the bathroom, drying himself and listening to Marie  
hum as she donned a long-sleeved nightgown and pairs of gloves and socks, "just  
in case," and applied moisturizer to her glowing face.  
  
Logan preferred to sleep naked so, with Marie so fully covered, he allowed  
himself the luxury of slipping between the cool sheets. "Next time I'll stay  
dressed and you can be naked," he half-purred, making Marie chuckle as she  
settled in next to him.  
  
Next time, and the time after that, and the time after that. Marie. His Marie,  
now.  
  
She was a cold beer on a scorching summer day.  
  
She was a fine cigar, a fast motorcycle, the cool side of the pillow.  
  
And he didn't have to ache for her anymore.  
  
END   
  
Author's notes:  
  
Emily Meredith is responsible for my conversion to XMM fandom. I understand  
she has brought many, many others into the fold. :)  
  
Many thanks to Macha for her amazing beta services. You can put down the pointy  
stick, now...  
  
This is my first XMM fic! Any feedback you might want to offer would be welcome:  
margueriteswbell.net  
  
Back to miscellaneous fic.  
  



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